Bobby started up the stairs when Mark leaned forward in a deck chair, the moon illuminating shadowy features. “I see she sent in reinforcements,” Mark said. “Save your breath. I’m done. Marrying me is supposed to be making Marcie happy. I’ve never seen her so miserable. And don’t tell me it’s nerves. It’s more than that.”
Bobby sat down on the steps, not worried about the wet concrete, considering he had been dried and drenched several times over that day. “She thinks you hate her. She thinks you don’t want to marry her.”
“I love her, man,” he said. “I love her so much it hurts. But she can’t have babies, and she thinks that is somehow going to destroy my life. I told her we’d get a dog. Heck, if that doesn’t satisfy the paternal instinct, we’ll get a cat, too. We’ll flipping adopt, if necessary. But she can’t get over this. Or maybe she doesn’t want to get over it. I pressured her into setting a date, into putting the baby thing aside. Well, no more pressure. Like I said. I’m done. I get that I’m not important enough to her to get by this thing. That I’m not ‘the guy’ or we’d fight this battle together. I have to let her go so she can find the person who is ‘the guy.’ I love her enough to know I have to let her go so she can find that person.”
No more pressure. That was what Jennifer had said to him. Mark believed Marcie didn’t love him enough to overcome her fears. Mark planned to let Marcie go. Just as Jennifer planned to let him go, unless Bobby convinced her otherwise.
15
IT WAS THREE in the morning now, officially, and Jennifer was so darn glad her clinic was closed for the day. She and Marcie had been sitting at Jennifer’s glossy mahogany kitchen table, talking, for hours, coffee mugs and their second bag of chocolate kisses—Jennifer had snuck them for herself from the party supplies—sitting between them.
“I’m convinced,” Jennifer moaned, shoving her cup away, “whoever said chocolate cures all didn’t eat a bag and a half of kisses and drink three cups of hot chocolate. Thankfully, we put our loose-fitting sweats on. I need breathing room.”
“Wimp,” Marcie said, unwrapping another candy.
“What happened to herbal tea and granola?” Jennifer asked.
“They help maintain a healthy life,” Marcie said, holding up her now bare-naked, ready-to-eat, chocolate kiss. “But chocolate heals the soul and the soul is the window to everything else.” She popped the candy into her mouth.
“Unless you get sick first,” Jennifer said. “Which apparently would be appropriate in my case because my soul doesn’t feel one bit healed and my stomach is pretty angry about the situation.”
Marcie pushed the candy bag in Jennifer’s direction. “I was sick ten kisses ago. Eat more. It gets better.”
“No, thank you,” Jennifer said emphatically. “No more for me.”
Marcie stared at her, the somber look slipping back across her features. “You should call Bobby,” Marcie suggested. “He’s been gone a long time.”
“Let them have their guy time, Marcie,” she urged gently as she had several times already.
“What if Bobby hasn’t even found Mark?” Marcie said. “Maybe he’s looking for him and doesn’t want me to know. What if Mark is off at some bar hanging all over some new woman? What if—”
“Marcie,” Jennifer interrupted. “Don’t. Stop. You’re making yourself crazy. Imagining things that just aren’t so. Mark loves you.”
“Yeah, well, you and Bobby are living proof sometimes love isn’t enough.”
Jennifer flinched as if slapped. “That was low.”
“Oh, no,” Marcie said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be thoughtless. I didn’t mean it as an insult at all. Just the opposite. I know how much you and Bobby love each other and still you’ve been apart the past seven years. Love doesn’t necessarily remove all obstacles. I know you know that. Love isn’t the easy answer.”
Jennifer grabbed a chocolate. Suddenly, her stomach didn’t hurt as much as her soul needed healing. “Maybe you should just have sex with Mark,” she suggested dryly. “Isn’t that what you suggested I do with Bobby?”
“I do have sex with Mark,” she assured Jennifer. “You weren’t having sex with Bobby. There’s a difference.” She picked up Julie and hugged her. “I love this cat. She is so sweet.”
Jennifer might have agreed but the chocolate hit her stomach hard. “Okay, for the record. Sex hasn’t solved anything. Chocolate makes me sick. Love isn’t always enough. I’m not sure where that leaves either of us. I don’t know what to do, Marcie.”
A knock sounded on the door. “You get it!” Marcie whispered, scrambling wildly to fix her hair and straighten in her chair. “That’s what you do.” She waved Jennifer on. “Hurry!”
“I’m trying,” Jennifer said, unfolding her legs from where she’d tucked them beneath her and rushing to the door about the time she heard, “Jen, it’s Bobby.”